New Vegas: A New Definition of Serious Business
by TheGamerGod333
Summary: It is 2281, and nothing but war goes on in the Mojave... the Caesar's Legion, and the NCR. Either way you're going to fight someone. The Courier and Boone search New Vegas for the bastard who almost killed the Courier. Rated M for violence and cussing.
1. Prologue: A Sunny Day In Paradise

**Prologue: Same Ol', Same Ol'...**

_"The year is 2281... 204 years after bombs fell from the sky... and nuclear fire ran from the once sunny skies of the good ol' USA."_

_"This is New Vegas... a still intact city, surrounded by desert. Even though war caused the fallout that followed the nuclear holocaust, there's still war and fighting going on today."_

_"And, war... war never..."

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_

"What the hell did you do back there? Pass out? I said throw a god damn grenade!" Jack yelled, crouching behind the rusty remains of a car, while firing at the soldiers of the Caesar's Legion.

The Courier woke up far behind the car, on the ground, near an ammo box filled with grenades. He flipped over and opened the grenade box, and reached in for a grenade. He pulled out a plasma grenade from the box.

He quickly got up and ran towards where Jack was while dodging gunfire. "Damn! Took you long enough! Well? Throw the damn thing already!" Jack screamed, still firing. The Courier activated the plasma grenade and launched it towards the soldiers of the Caesar's Legion soldiers.

"FUCK! Grenade!" One of the Caesar's Legion screamed. The grenade went off and killed the panicking soldiers of the Caesar's Legion.

"More of them are coming from behind! Get on the other side of the car!" Jack yelled, pulling out his infamous "Little Boy" which was a fat man, otherwise known as a mini nuke launcher. Boone was far back from them, sniping Legionaries.

The Courier took Jack's advice and quickly got on the other side of the rusted car. The large group of the Caesar's Legion's soldiers stopped running towards Jack and the Courier when they had realized that Jack was holding a fat man. They tried to turn around and run but Jack had fired the fat man already.

The soldiers screamed as a mini nuke soared through the air directly towards them. The mini nuke landed directly in the middle of them and caused a huge explosion taking out the Caesar's Legion.

"Heh... blew them all to hell, huh kid?" Jack laughed, putting his fat man back on his back.

"..." The Courier said nothing.

"You don't seem to make a lot of noise kid... sometimes that can be a bad thing, sometimes can be a good thing." Jack said, suddenly pulling his loaded 9mm pistol out of his pocket and firing backwards over his shoulder.

The Courier saw a Caesar's Legion soldier behind Jack missing half of his face because of the gunshot from the 9mm pistol. The soldier fell to the ground dead before he had even hit the hot sand of the desert. "Let's go, kid. You too back there..." Jack said, looking back at Boone.

Boone said nothing, he simply just walked towards them, still holding his scoped hunting rifle. The Courier couldn't let help his mind drift back to how all this happened.

_"War DOES change. The reason for it... it doesn't."_

**_End of Prologue: Same Ol' Same Ol'_

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**

**The start of a NV fanfic. Yes, this early, and the game just came out today.**

**Adios mi amigos... see ya next time.**

**Edit: Now that I've actually played the game... I see now that Boone was, WAY out of character. So I edited it a little. This is just the prologue, not the actual beginning...  
**

**~TGG333**


	2. Blue Moon

_"Blue Moon... now I'm no longer alone, without a dream in my heart_  
_Without a love of my own"_

**Chapter I Part I Blue Moon  
**

That night in Primm... the sun was setting over the horizon of the Mojave Wasteland. The Courier waited iin the Mojave Express building patiently. "Ah... here it is..." Johnson Nash said, walking towards the Courier, who was sitting in the front part of the Mojave Express, waiting for Nash to give him the package he's supposed to deliver. Nash was holding a shiny silver poker chip between his fingers, there was a Lucky 38 icon placed in the middle of the silver poker chip.

"So, this is it? THIS is what I'm going to risk my life for by carrying it across the Mojave Wasteland?" The Courier asked. Nash understood why the Courier was angry, as it was a very strange request for a courier job. Johnson Nash also handed the Courier the delivery's paperwork and contract.

"Well, you'll be paid when you reach New Vegas, so quit your whinin'." Johnson Nash said, handing the Courier the Platinum Chip. The Courier got up and stretched, he then put the chip in his pocket. He walked out of the Mojave Express building, but Nash followed him.

"I almost forgot to give you this. If you would have walked all the way to New Vegas and be told you can't enter because of not having a passport or enough to pass a credit check, I'd bet that you would be pissed." Nash said, tossing a New Vegas passport to the Courier. The Courier caught it, and put it in his pocket.

"Anything you forgot to give me?" The Courier asked irritatingly. "Yeah, here." Nash said, tossing a 9mm pistol and a box of 9mm ammo to the Courier. "So this is for...?" The Courier said, looking at the pistol in his hands with the box of ammo.

"Insurance. Don't know why, but if someone wants that chip delivered, it means someone would value this chip for who knows why... people will no doubt come for it. Good luck Courier..." Nash said, walking back into the building.

The Courier left Primm, and started his trek towards Goodsprings, from there, he would go across the highway past Sloan and the Quarry Junction towards the illuminated city of New Vegas. The sun had set by now.

The Courier passed through Goodspring and continued on. He didn't know that there was someone watching him from above...

A man stood next to a motorcycle on a hill overlooking the Courier's path. It was north of Goodsprings and it's cemetery. The man was wearing hooded reinforced leather armor, and the hood covered his face with shadow, concealing his identity. He was holding a nail board in his left hand. There was a pip-boy 3000 on his left wrist. He got on the motorcycle and put his nail board, strapped on his back. The sound of the motorcycle alerted the Courier.

He started the motorcycle and rode it down the hill towards the Courier. The Courier turned around to see the man on the motorcycle riding towards him, the man had grabbed the nail board off his back. The man hit the Courier's side with the nail board when he rode by him. The Courier fell to the ground in pain.

The Courier saw the man on his motorcycle park in front of him. He saw that the man was getting off his motorcycle. The Courier desperately reached for his loaded 9mm pistol. He pulled it out, and fired at the man several times, desperately hoping that one would hit the man.

The bullets missed and hit the man's motorcycle. The man turned his head around and he simply looked at the Courier holding the 9mm pistol. The Courier squeezed the trigger of the 9mm pistol, but realized that he had fired all of the ammo and had to reload, but he had no time.

"Now you've pissed me off." The man said, pulling his nail board out. He swung, and knocked the pistol out of the Courier's hands. The man grabbed onto the Courier's leg, pulling him towards him. The man hit the Courier on the head with the blunt side of his nail board. The Courier was knocked out by the blow. The man searched the unconscious Courier.

He grabbed the box of 9mm ammo and his sack full of caps and put it in his pocket. He also grabbed the Courier's passport to New Vegas. He walked over to where the Courier's pistol had flew and grabbed that too. The man walked back to where the Courier was, ignoring the sand and dirt that was being blown into his eyes. He noticed something shiny in the Courier's pocket. He bent down and grabbed for the object.

He looked at what he had stolen from the unconscious Courier. A single, silver poker chip that had "Lucky 38" in the middle. "This must be it... the Platinum Chip." The man said. He deposited the chip in his pocket and quickly tied the Courier up. He then lifted the Courier onto his bike and tied him to the back of the bike, hogtied. The man drove to the Goodsprings Cemetery, that overlooked the small and quiet town of Goodsprings. A group of Great Khans waited there patiently, with a man wearing a checkered suit. The man parked his motorcycle and got off of it.

He untied the Courier from his bike and threw him onto the ground in front of the man in a suit. "Now about that reward you promised, Benny..." The man said.

"You aren't getting nothing until you give me the chip, dig?" The man in the checkered suit said.

"I still hate the way you people talk here... catch." The man said, flicking the silver poker chip towards Benny. Benny caught the chip in his hands and laughed. "Perfect... here ya go. Now scoot off... we can handle it from here, fink." Benny said, throwing a burlap sack full of caps to the brim. "You never told us your name anyways... and who are ya with? New California Republic? Legion? These finks over here? I KNOW you're not a Chairman..." Benny said, lighting a cigarette with his favorite lighter. The man got on his motorcycle.

"Well, I'm with no one... and I'm a Rider... I'm the Lone Rider." The man said, taking off his motorcycle. He sped down the hill away from the cemetery. The motorcycle's spinning wheels caused dirt to be flung at Benny. He looked down at his now dirty suit.

"God damn it... that fucking fink's gonna pay if I ever see him again." Benny said, wiping his suit off while taking a puff from his cigarette.

"So, you paid him. Where's the Khans' money?" Jessup asked, angry that Benny hadn't paid the Khans yet, but did pay "The Lone Rider".

"You're just crying in the rain, pally. You'll get it, on the way back to the city." Benny said.

"God damn it... just shoot him in the head already so we can hurry back." Another Great Khan said.

"Hey, maybe the Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I'm no fink, dig?" Benny said, he had seen that the Courier's eyes were opening.

"Hey... our honored guest is finally waking up..." Another Great Khan said. Benny dropped his cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out. "Time to cash out." Benny said.

"You've made your last delivery, kid. I'm sorry you got twisted up in this scene..." Benny said, putting the Platinum Chip in his suit's pocket, and taking something else out of the pocket. The Courier saw, a custom designed 9mm pistol in Benny's hand.

"From where you're kneeling, this must be an eighteen karot of bad luck. Truth is..." Benny aimed his 9mm pistol at the Courier.

"The game was rigged from the start." A 9mm round fired from the chamber and it landed directly in the Courier's cranium. He fell back into the freshly dug grave. The Great Khans began to throw dirt over the Courier, into the grave with their shovels. Benny and the Great Khans left when the Courier was fully buried. A securitron wheeled towards the grave, full of moist dirt. The securitron began to dig up the grave... the radio that the Khans left on in the cemetery was playing,

_Blue Moon._

**_End of Chapter I Part I  
_

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**

**More of the NV prologue. The next part will be the last of the prologue and then the ball will start rolling... well amigos, I'm heading to bed... I'll probably be playing New Vegas as... "research" for this fanfic... heh... anyways... adios and review...**

**~TGG333**


	3. Ain't That A Kick In The Head

**Chapter Two: Ain't That A Kick In The Head**

The Courier slowly opened his eyes. He saw a ceiling fan above him, spinning. The Courier sat up on the bed, ready to get out of the bed, but a man stopped him.

"Whoa, easy...you've been out on that bed for a while now...no need to rush to get up after your week long coma..." The man said.

"A week...? Where...where am I? And who are you? Also, why does my head hurt?" The Courier asked, holding his head.

"Yes...a week, you're in Goodsprings, and my name is Mitchell...Doctor Mitchell. As for your head pain...Victor told me that he saw you get shot and buried in the old cemetery." Doc Mitchell explained.

"The robot outside...he dug you out and brought you here. Amazingly, you were still kicking, but barely. I performed a few surgeries, and good as new...at least I hope so...here, tell me if you still see what you did before your head was full of lead. Hey...that rhymed." Doc Mitchell said, handing the courier a reflectron.

The Courier looked into the reflectron.

Spiky black hair which was still coated with the dried blood from that night, and his jade eyes.

"Seems about right." The Courier said, handing the reflectron back.

"Okay...considering you were shot in the head, there may be memory loss or brain damage...so first question...do you remember your name?" Doc Mitchell asked.

"I...was never given a name...never knew my parents...grew up by myself and when I could...I became a Courier..." The Courier said.

"...So, everyone just calls you Courier? You could make your own name you know..." Doc Mitchell said.

"I've actually gotten used to it...anymore questions?" The Courier said.

"Do you remember where you grew up?" Doc Mitchell asked.

"No...I grew up in Freeside...slept in dumpsters, gnawed on raw rat meat, I begged for water." The Courier said.

"So you were homeless, a bum, a hobo?" Doctor Mitchell asked.

"A homeless kid without his parents, any type of family, and friends. I didn't have a good life, but it could have been worse." The Courier said.

"Your memory seems pretty intact. But one more question...this time about the night when you were shot. Do you remember exactly what happened?" Doctor Mitchell asked.

"I remember someone riding a motorcycle...he hit me with a board and took me to them...they called him the Lone Rider. Then, he brought me to the man in the checkered suit, and the Khans. I saw that the checkered man had took the package I had been carrying to deliver, and then he shot me. The Platinum Chip...that bastard, he's going to pay for the bullet he put in my head." The Courier said.

"Lone Rider, you say...Victor didn't tell me about this Lone Rider...only about when you got shot..." Doc Mitchell said. "Anyways, I suppose it's about time you got off that bed." Doc Mitchell said, offering a hand to the Courier.

"I'm fine, Doc..." The Courier said, getting up on his own.

"You're standing fine...now walk over to that vit-o-matic over there...no need to rush, it's not a race." Doc Mitchell said.

"Hey, Mitch...do you know where that group was heading after they shot and buired me?" The Courier asked.

"Most who pass through Goodsprings are either heading to California or to New Vegas...and with all that news about deathclaws being in the quarry around Sloan, I bet they weren't heading that way. Probably through Primm. Now come on." Doc Mitchell said, walking over to the vit-o-matic.

"Hey, Doc...do you have some glasses? Without a pair of them, I can barely see anything..." The Courier asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Over on the table in front of you." Mitchell said. The Courier stumbled over to the table and grabbed a pair of eyeglasses. They didn't fit his eyes perfectly, but they would do for now. The Courier walked over to the vit-o-matic. He pulled the lever on the vit-o-matic. He pulled the lever on the vit-o-matic. The meter went up to five for Strength. "Hmm...average. Okay, perception's next." Doc Mitchell said.

The Courier pulled the lever again, and the meter went up to one for perception. "Probably why you need glasses. Actually, definitely why you need glasses. Anyhow, on to endurance." Doc Mitchell said.

The Courier yet again pulled the lever. The meter went up to seven for endurance. "Better than average. Okay, next is charisma." Doc Mitchell said.

The Courier once again pulled the lever. The meter went up to one for charisma. "Woo...looks like you need to work on speaking...and eye contact. Then again, you did say you had nobody while growing up...probably the cause of your low charisma. Now, intelligence." Doc Mitchell said.

The Courier pulled the lever for the fifth time. The meter skyrocketed to nine for intelligence. "Maybe that bullet did your brain some good. Now, agility." Doc Mitchell said.

The Courier pulled the lever for the sixth time. The meter went up to seven for agility. "Better than average...which is strange for your reputation of not ducking bullets." Doc Mitchell laughed. The Courier's head snapped back towards the Doc, but he was silent. The look was enough however. "Okay, the jokes aren't funny to you, I see that now. Now luck!" Doc Mitchell coughed.

_Finally...the last one. This is taking forever as it is...I need to find that checkered suit wearing jackass._ The Courier thought.

He pulled the lever for the final time, and the meter went up to nine for luck.

"Actually, that kind of makes sense. With the whole...surviving headshots thing." Doc Mitchell said. "Just got a few more tests, to see if your head is still screwed on right. You know, to check if you're psychologically healthy." Doc Mitchell said.

"Other than rage about getting shot in the head, I'm alright, Doc." The Courier said.

"Come over and sit on the couch in the other room." Doc Mitchell said, walking to the next room. The Courier followed, and sat on the couch. "All right. I'm going to say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind." Doc Mitchell said.

"Dog." Doc Mitchell said.

"Dinner. As dogmeat is actually decent." The Courier said.

"House." Doc Mitchell said.

"Demolish." The Courier said.

"Night." Doc Mitchell said.

"Shroud..." The Courier said, yawning.

"Bandit." Doc Mitchell said.

"Vaporize." The Courier said.

"Light." Doc Mitchell said.

"Inspiration." The Courier said.

"Mother." Doc Mitchell said.

"Human shield. Though, that's mainly because I believe my parents abandoned me in Freeside as a child. As I don't even remember seeing them once. So that throws out the dead angle." The Courier said.

"Okay. Now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say. First one. Conflict just ain't in my nature." Doc Mitchell said.

"Strongly disagree." The Courier said.

"I ain't given to relying on others for support." Doc Mitchell said.

"Strongly agree." The Courier said.

"I'm always fixing to be the center of attention."Doc Mitchell said.

"Strongly disagree." The Courier said.

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas." Doc Mitchell said.

"Disagree. Very much so." The Courier said.

"I charge in to deal with my problems head-on." Doc Mitchell said.

"Agree." The Courier said.

"Almost done here. What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see." Doc Mitchell said, showing the Courier a picture. The Courier looked at it for a minute, trying to see what it was, or what it looked like.

"An angry two-headed ant?" The Courier said.

Doc Mitchell showed the Courier a different one, and he looked at it again for another minute.

"It's some piece of space-age technology." The Courier said.

"Last one." Doc Mitchell showed the Courier the last picture.

"This time...looks like two things to me. A mushroom cloud, but I also see a bearded man..." The Courier said.

"Well, that's it. Come on, I'll walk you to the door, and give you all of your stuff..." Doc Mitchell said, putting the pictures down.

_About damn time._ The Courier thought.

_**End of Chapter Two: Ain't That A Kick In The Head**_

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**Been a while since I updated this, and all the update was was another part of the normal NV introduction...hate typing the games' introductions. Though, I suppose you have to have a beginning to have a story.**

**Also, from now on, I'm going to be updating all of my stories in one burst. So all updates are going to be posted the same day. This is to make sure all stories begin to get the same amount of attention. As most of my side stories got pushed aside for the goliath that was ANDoH, but that is over now...at least part one.**

**Adios, and review if you feel like it.**

**~TGG333**


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